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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653215">Swallowing a Cup of Liquid Memories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/made_of_lions_and_wolves333/pseuds/made_of_lions_and_wolves333'>made_of_lions_and_wolves333</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blended Melodies of Dark &amp; Light [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arthurian Mythology, Camelot (TV), Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:34:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/made_of_lions_and_wolves333/pseuds/made_of_lions_and_wolves333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgan asks Merlin if he remembers her over a cup of wine. Of course he does... even though he may deny it tonight. Based on Camelot 1x03.</p>
<p>Or: the AU where the two show verses collide and Merlin and Morgana portrayed the younger counterparts of Merlin and Lady Morgan in a certain flashback.</p>
<p>[Mergana subtext]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Morgan Pendragon (Camelot TV), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blended Melodies of Dark &amp; Light [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Swallowing a Cup of Liquid Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All rights go to BBC and Starz entertainment companies. Added inspiration and excerpts used: Merlin BCC original script and/or Novelization. </p>
<p>Also, the falcon called Ayden is from Quest to Camelot (1998), just for kicks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lady Morgan smirks, amused, when she leans over to pour him a fresh cup of wine. “Do you remember me as a child?” </p>
<p>Merlin does not want himself to become too comfortable in her presence. Yes, perhaps there is a gentle roaring fire. And yes, they are practically huddling in together, alone in the dark with nothing but wine and soft inviting furs beneath them. But he cannot bring himself to look into her piercing gaze as he mulls over his answer. He merely hangs his head and swallows down his drink, tensely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>When Hunith receives a summons directly from the Castle, pleading for assistance, Merlin is still a bit shocked by it. King Uther has fallen terribly ill after surviving a long cold battle up in the mountains. Now, the people are dreading what’s to come of their beloved Camelot, for Uther has made many rivals during his reign — too many lords opposing him who shall gladly take the whole kingdom by storm, if King Uther should perish. So the people fear for Uther’s life because it means worrying for the routines that still keep them safe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His mother arrives back at home earlier than usual, along with a Royal Messenger on horseback trotting at her side. Merlin pauses, looking up from feeding scraps of meat to his silvery falcon, Ayden. He dusts feathers and straw off his clothes to greet them. The sigil of Pendragon House is plain to see on the Messenger’s breastplate: a golden dragon stamped upon a vibrant red wheel.</p>
<p>He has known about the arrangement but is unprepared to leave this soon.</p>
<p>“My son,” Hunith says earnestly, handing him a full sack already set for travel. “Camelot requires your service. You must try your best to do exactly as your told, understood? Ask for my elder halfbrother after you reach the Castle. He will help you with the rest.” </p>
<p>Merlin nods. With a final kiss between his eyes, his mother releases him quickly and steps away, allowing him to blanket the provided pony lingering behind the Messenger’s grey steed. </p>
<p>“Come with haste, lad,” the Messenger encourages him in turn. “Our Queen is desperately waiting as we speak.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They ride off swiftly through the meadow and over a series of bridges. They only make camp once in the morning to eat something. Merlin soon notices that natural waters become scarcer in these parts and the trees here are younger and smaller than what he is used to. There are more and more obvious hunting trails and flattened pathways left by soldiers. And he can start to smell the ripeness of the farmlands waiting over the hills. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The strong marble towers of Pendragon Castle eventually peak over the horizon, and right away, in spite of the dread spreading around at night, Camelot is filled with excited and lavish people during the day. </p>
<p>Hunith has regularly explained to him that city people dwelling in large numbers like this would fear his gifts. He is a seed made from the immortal kin, and Merlin only has the Old Gods to thank for that. For all sixteen years of his life, Merlin has known a very simple childhood, only having the woods and Ayden as his company. He’s lived churchless and fatherless, merely raised by his mortal mother. The two of them have managed to maintain a quaint, private little cottage for themselves settled nearby the ancient Lady’s Lake, between Camelot and Essetir country.</p>
<p>Here, it is loud. And open. The surrounding houses and inns grow taller and wider the closer they ride toward the inner gates. Large tents and shop masters are lined up the entire street, side by side selling their goods. Fellow merchants, flute players, and milkmaids pass him by in a blur, pushing their carts loaded down with other valuable imports. The small children of Camelot themselves seem free to laugh and chase each other in the square with little concern.</p>
<p>It really doesn’t take long at all for Merlin to feel as though he has just fallen into a new realm that isn’t his own. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The trumpets sound overhead and the Queen herself is waiting for them the moment they arrive. Although quite aged considerably on the surface, she’s still a lovely sight compared to most. She’s pale white with long black hair showing a streaks of grey. She has bright red lips and her eyes shine as green as the summer grass. Her evening gown glitters in the light, dripping with pretty jewels and pearls. </p>
<p>“Young Merlin,” she says, sounding relieved as he is guided up the mighty steps of the Pendragon fortress.</p>
<p>Merlin steeps rather low in greeting before her, mimicking what the Royal Messenger does. “Your Grace.” His mother has taught him that it’s customary to respect royals while staying in the city. It’s always the safest option to bow to anyone who wears a crown.</p>
<p>The Queen beams at him. “Please, come inside.”</p>
<p>“Many thanks, Your Grace.” Merlin obliges and he is now flanked by the Queen and three guards as they make their way down the main corridor.</p>
<p>“I figure Camelot will be such a notable change for you.”</p>
<p>He nods politely. “It is… certainly full of many sounds and colors, Your Grace.”</p>
<p>“Oh please, dear Merlin. You do not have to call me that every time. Whenever it is just you and I, you are welcome to call me by my name if it’s easier. I <em>want</em> you to feel like you will have a friend during your needed stay.” She waits, excusing the guards with a single hand gesture. Then as she turns the corner, she adds quietly, “They might see me as a Queen in this place… but, you may be surprised at how much we actually have in common.”</p>
<p>Merlin senses there’s a double-meaning to her words, maybe a secret; but he also knows it’d be rude to waste her precious time asking silly questions. “Yes, Your Grace,” so he says. “Macha.”</p>
<p>She smiles at him again, fondly, not unlike his own mother would, and she gently pushes him further down the hall a couple of paces. There are two narrow wooden doors painted a dark red on the left. “Master Gaius is right through there. I will see you tomorrow morn.”</p>
<p>“Alright. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Merlin steps in carefully, wincing once as the doors began to groan loudly as they shut closed behind him. Gaius’ den is a bit dim compared to the Throne Hall, yet still large enough to allow at least six men to sleep in it if they wished. There is a large study table with three stools placed around it, and the cracked stone walls are packed tightly with tall shelves displaying dead moths or dragonflies pinned to wood planks by needles. Several potion jars are stuffed between the various books and plants. </p>
<p>“Finally. You’re here, boy.” Gaius appears out from the far dark corner, lighting candles as he moves about the room. </p>
<p>“So you truly know potions, like Mother said?” Merlin peers closer at the collection of bottles and jars, in which one is labeled <em>Adder’s Fork</em>. “And what I am?”</p>
<p>“The Castle prefers to call them <em>medicine</em>, not potions. Mind you, King Uther does not support magick in any form or nature.” </p>
<p>“But, I thought I was brought here to heal the King <em>with</em> my magick?”</p>
<p>“You were summoned just in case the King’s health... does not respond to this medicine I am brewing. I told the Queen your magick is more potent than mine, that we may need to mix in your blood for several days.”</p>
<p>“Then, why even — ?”</p>
<p>“Because Queen Macha acted on an impulse to ensure that Uther lives and nothing else. She comes from the forest lands, as long as she is married to Uther, their treaties remain in place. His death would mean that House Pendragon would fall and then be sieged. “Though no more fretting over that. We have a plan now at least, yes? What I need now is a lot of water to boil and dowse these herbs in first. Take this pail with you and hurry.”</p>
<p>Water.</p>
<p>Water is his first task. He’s been separated by his mother, roped into staying under a castle’s roof miles away from his home, to fetch <em>water</em>? Not to mention, he knows nothing of this castle. Why must <em>he</em> run room to room like a common manservant? The first two rooms he tries are fairly empty, save for a pair of cleaning maids and they’re of no help to him really. They remain silent and just motion him in the opposite direction. </p>
<p>The third room he enters is clearly another mistake; it’s a bedchamber, not a washroom. He can tell by the long gold mirror hanging near the window and rather large canpony bed. He sighs deeply and he’s just about to leave, when a young beauty steps into view. </p>
<p>She must think she is still alone because she’s just in a nightgown, and much of her skin is showing. Merlin’s heart lurches, stunned by her charm. She appears to be his age maybe, give or take, though she might be slightly more mature than him considering her obvious status.</p>
<p>“I find it somewhat revolting the ladies of the court still expect me to look <em>presentable</em>, even if all I’m doing is waiting by Father’s bedside, holding his hand. Surely I could just wish my ill father well without anyone worrying about what sort of dress I am wearing for the day…”</p>
<p>She is so concerned with her own ideas and looking down at her feet when she rounds the wooden screen, that she doesn’t notice him lingering in the doorway, just in awe. Though before Merlin has can dare muster the will to ask her where to find the bloody water in this place… or, better yet, flee the scene unnoticed, she starts to slip into her new dress. “I may need some help with the fastenings,” she announces. </p>
<p>Merlin remains frozen a breath longer, face feeling hot. He would have loved to help with her fastenings, he supposed…</p>
<p>“Ingraine, are you there?” she calls out again.</p>
<p>Merlin jumps when another girl about their age (most likely the handmaid) suddenly appears beside him. She’s more willowy and slender, with pretty light brown hair and dark eyes instantly growing wide seeing him here. She’s caught him watching the screen. Merlin visibly panics, lifting the empty bucket still in his hand as innocently as possible in front of her face. All he needs is water.  </p>
<p><br/>The handmaid, Ingraine, relaxes and smiles back at his foolishness, pointing directly across the hall as she silently shoos him out…</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“… Do you remember me as a child?”</p>
<p><em>Yes</em>, of course, he does. A young princess and ward. Beautiful, lovely, and sharp bright eyes that were full of fire and life. They still are. He merely hangs his head and swallows down his drink, tensely. “No.” </p>
<p>“Well, I remember you.” She prompts calmly, unfazed by his denial. “You came here when my father was gravely ill. You helped cure him.”</p>
<p>“I cured many.”</p>
<p>“I adored you for that. I told Gaius when I grew older, I’d marry you. And, do you want to know what he said to that?” Their eyes finally meet, questioningly, and Merlin feels the charge. There is a jolt she sends through him saying those words. It is neither a wholesome good, nor an entirely bad feeling. Whatever it is, it simply makes the magick buried within him hum alive in his veins. “… He said, if I married you, everything in the world would be mine, except my soul. You would be my doom.”</p>
<p>Merlin can’t help himself when he cracks a grin in her direction, a reaction that reflects both humor and bitterness. So even after saving Uther’s skin and therefore the kingdom, that still wouldn’t have let him be accepted? Even his own uncle didn’t deem him worthy or safe enough for a princess to love. </p>
<p>Soon though, the memory dies and everything else around him grows blurry once Morgan is laying herself atop of him. And he’s engulfed. Her lead finger traces his bottom lip suggestively and his hands reach up to touch her face, pressing his palms to her flesh. Because he feels it again. Something in him… something far and deep stirs below the surface, and it’s ready to breach. </p>
<p>He can taste the north wind on her breath and smell the pine in her hair. Closing his eyes, he can see swirling mists and spider webs, fluttering ravens, and huge black wolves running around her father’s tomb inside her mind. A part of him worries; the part that knows this could be dangerous in more ways than one. Yet, his magick easily responds to her caressing again, which heats him up from the inside out, and it’s been so long since that’s happened with anyone else. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And that is a part he cannot ignore. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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